


Strings of Fate are Cruel and Tangled

by Thirstavos



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirstavos/pseuds/Thirstavos
Summary: A prequel story to The Dragon Prince that follows the life of a younger Aaravos, who begins to dream of times that have not yet come to pass, and of a man who seems to be tied to him by the strings of fate.Inspired by a conversation with @littleleafbun on Twitter.





	1. In the Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> I will try my best to update this story at least twice a week. Probably Monday and Thursday mornings.

It was the same thing every night. A dream of a place that Aaravos had never set foot in before, but knew every nook and cranny all too well from his nightly visits. 

The room was cold and small. In the darkness, Aaravos adjusted his cloak, trembling from the dread that he felt deep inside his gut. There was something about this room that terrified him, but no matter how many times he explored the area in his dreams, Aaravos found nothing unusual. 

Nothing besides the odd mirror that offered no reflection. 

In the dream world, Aaravos walked to the fireplace and lit it with the primal magic coursing through his veins. With the room illuminated, Aaravos turned his attention to the enchanted item across the room. 

The mirror's surface was black, but Aaravos knew it would only be a matter of time before _he_ appeared.

The first time Aaravos had this dream, the man had startled him. He had been examining the mirror that only showed him darkness, when a blinding light had filled the room. In the mirror, stood a man, holding a sheet. His eyes were wide, taking in the sight of the elf before him. The fabric slipped out of his grasp.

Aaravos reached out, placing his hand against the glass. The mirror was surprisingly warm considering how cold the rest of the room was. 

The human hesitated, but reached out. His hand hovered over Aaravos' and the elf looked at the odd number of digits with curiosity. He had never seen a human before. Everything about him was fascinating.

Aaravos watched the man, intrigued. If the elf had to guess, the human was middle-aged, judging from the greying hair of his beard and the slight wrinkles around his eyes, but, despite his older appearance, Aaravos considered him attractive— for a human, whom he had always been told were hideous monsters. There was an air about this man. A confidence that the elf only wished he could one day possess. 

There was something else about this human that called to Aaravos, but he had yet to figure out what it was. Even though the elf had seen him many times in his dreams, he still felt a jolt of excitement in his belly every time their eyes met through the mirror in his sleeping state. 

It was clear that Aaravos was the only one that was truly aware in this dream world. Each time the human pulled the fabric off the mirror, there was only surprise in his reaction and no trace of recognition, which made it obvious the man present in this repetitive dream was merely a figment of Aaravos’ imagination. But Aaravos knew that somewhere in their world, this man existed.

Just before the human could place his hand over his elven fingers on the glass, Aaravos always woke from the dream. He sat up, putting his hand over his face. 

Why? Why did he keep dreaming about that room? And why that man? Who was he?

There was a knock on the door and it slid open. A timid skywing elf stepped inside and bowed.

"I am sorry to bother you, my lord, but your mother is requesting your presence at the breakfast table." 

Aaravos sighed, letting his hand fall to his side. His eyes moved over to the young elf and he forced a weak smile.

"Thank you, Alaanen," he answered. "Please inform my mother that I will be there shortly." 

The elf bowed again then closed the door behind her, leaving him alone to ready himself for what was sure to be another long day of studying. 

Reluctantly, Aaravos pushed back his covers and walked to the large window at the foot of his bed. It was another beautiful day. The sun poured in through the window, making Aaravos squint his eyes to take in the view of the mountainside. 

The forest was filled with activity. Magical beasts wandered throughout the trees and birds soared on the thermals of the warm summer air, their delighted song filling the sky. A dragon let out a mighty roar in unison with the birds, as she flew over the temple that Aaravos' family resided in. 

A genuine smile spread on his face.

Xadia was gorgeous. Instead of spending his days inside, he much rather explore the forest or hike down to the lake where he could go swimming. Pressing his forehead against the window, Aaravos tried to look down past the cliffside, where a large waterfall churned the river below, but all he could see was the faint mist rising from the point where the two waters met. Aaravos would give anything to be able to wade into the refreshing water and float, as the sun caressed his skin. 

But he had responsibilities. A duty to his kind. His life belonged to the people of Xadia. To the Dragon King. Freedom was not a luxury that Aaravos would ever be given. At least, not until the threat of humanity was dealt with.

With one last look, he pushed himself away from the window, forcing away the thoughts of adventures and the notion of freedom. 

Foregoing his usual morning bath, Aaravos pulled on his robes then pulled open his bedroom doors. The grand halls were empty, which made him feel uneasy. There was usually at least one sunfire elf guarding his door in the mornings. His mother had claimed it was for his protection, but Aaravos had a feeling she hired the guards to make sure he would never have the opportunity to run away again. 

Aaravos’ fingers went to the tips of his hair, which fell just past his jawline, and felt his teeth grind together in anger. His hair had reached down to the small of his back just a couple of months ago— before he decided to skip his studies and go for a walk instead. His mother had been furious that her son had put the wants of himself over his duties and as a punishment for his shame, she had cut his hair to near the root so everyone would know of his selfishness. 

His bare feet made no sound as he walked down the corridor, towards the centre of the temple, where the main living quarters were located. There were elves wandering about in this area of the temple, but the atmosphere was heavy with gloom. Something was happening. 

Quickening his pace, Aaravos made his way to the dining room and pushed open the large double doors. His mother was sitting at the head of the table, as usual, but the normally empty chairs were filled with generals from the other tribes of elves. Instead of food on the table, there were maps and figures that represented the elven armies and those of the human forces. 

“Aaravos,” his mother said, noticing him at the door. “So kind of you to finally join us. Have a seat,” she ordered, motioning her hand to the empty chair at the end of the table. 

Without a word, Aaravos did as he was told. He had learned better than to speak without permission— especially in front of guests of such esteem. All of the leaders of the elven kind were here, which confirmed his suspicion that something major was happening, or about to happen. 

His eyes went to the maps spread before him on the table and he made a mental note of where all of the pawns on the board were. Most of the elven armies were marching away towards Mount Nexus, which was the closest elven outpost to the border of Xadia and the unofficial mortal kingdom, where the human army was apparently gathering.

Aaravos’ eyes widened with realization. They were going to war with the humans.


	2. Ill-Equipped Shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elves and the humans are on the brink of war with one another. A council of representatives from each of the six elven tribes, has gathered at Mount Nexus to determine if they will banish humanity from Xadian lands and go to war with them, or reach out to the appointed human leaders to try to find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two of the characters, Elduin and Lusai, are based on the male sunfire elf and the female moonshadow elf, respectively, in the very beginning of episode one of The Dragon Prince. I went ahead and named the elves associated with water "oceantide elves". Once we learn the official name of this type of elf, I will edit the story to reflect the canon name.

“We must gather the humans on our lands and banish them to their own kingdom,” the sunfire elf, Elduin, said. He reached out and shoved the tiny figures to the bottom left side of the map before him.

Aaravos narrowed his eyes, looking at the multiple lumps of human figures in the elven lands. Many of these humans had made homes in Xadia and a good majority of them had started families here. That made the human children true citizens of Xadia. There was no justification that Elduin could give Aaravos that would convince him exiling humans from Xadia was the right decision.

“Let us not forget that the human kingdom— whatever it is they are calling it— is nothing more than a sham. It was by the grace of the Dragon King that they were allowed to claim a portion of Xadia for their vermin of a species. But those lands are still Xadia. Not…” Aaravos’ mother hesitated, searching for the name the humans were calling their kingdom. 

Aaravos’ lips twitched. He knew that they had named their land Katolis, but if he spoke without permission then his mother might discipline him once their guests were gone. However, this might be a good opportunity to prove to his mother that he had been reading all the texts that his teachers provided him. Perhaps she would be proud of him for doing his studies?

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he tried to say, “Katolis,” but his voice was weak— barely audible to the elves sitting next to him, let alone his mother, who sat on the opposite end of the table from him.

Her cold eyes slowly moved to look at him, as though she was in disbelief that her son had spoken out of term, yet again. There was no pride in her eyes. Only anger.

“If you are going to speak, then speak up for us all to hear, Aaravos,” she growled.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Ka-Katolis, Mother. The humans call it Katolis.”

The way his mother’s jaw clenched together was subtle. The other elves probably thought nothing of the movement, but Aaravos knew exactly what it meant. As soon as the council was over, she would ask him to remain behind so she may speak with him in private. 

“Aadriaa is right,” Gaaelin, one of the oceantide elf generals, said. His light blue eyes met each of the leaders’ gazes, one by one, linger on Aaravos for longer than the others. There was disapproval in his stare. “The humans have no place in Xadia and that includes the false kingdom, Kakatolis.”

Aaravos’ cheeks burned with embarrassment at Gaaelin’s teasing of his stutter. He sank into his seat, wishing he had been smart enough to know that his mother would never be proud of him. The woman cared only of her duties.

“I mean no offence, Aadriaa, Gaaelin, but I disagree,” Jhahanna replied, sending Aaravos a sympathetic smile. 

The skywing representative was Aaravos’ favourite. She was always kind to him and seemed to have more sense then the others. Her decisions were always well thought out and when she spoke, it was with a calming tone that only seemed to emphasize her points— unlike Gaaelin’s shouting that made it seem like the elf was throwing a temper tantrum. 

“Yes, there have been squabbles with the humans, but there is no need to escalate things to all-out warfare. I propose we call back our armies and the humans will do the same,” Jhahanna continued. 

Aaravos noticed Lusai, the moonshadow general, and Maielen, the representative from the earthblood tribe, nod in agreement.

Gaaelin slammed his hand against the table, knocking over the figures on the map. He let out a guttural roar, glaring at the three elven leaders that disagreed with him. 

“You are all fools if you think the humans will simply stand down. Their kind think too highly of themselves. They believe they deserve a land of their own and reject the rule of the Dragon King. Exile would be a mercy for them. They can take their pathetic kingdom, but if we, elves, don’t put them in their place, they will continue to rebel.”

Lusai held up her hand, silencing Gaaelin’s ranting. The moonshadow elf stroked her cheeks with her thumb and pointer finger, deep in thought. Finally, she set her hand delicately down on the table and said, “It is possible that the humans will refuse to stand down, but I believe it is worth trying to delegate with the humans if there is any possibility of avoiding war between our kind.”

“I second this sentiment,” Maielen added. “The earthblood would rather not stain our lands red with slaughter. If we can avoid war, we _must_ take the chance.”

There was silence in the room then all eyes went to Aadriaa. Though the other elves would never admit it, she was considered the leader of all clans. Jhahanna had explained to Aaravos that it was because his mother was a startouch elf, and she was special— just like him. The startouch were the wisest, most powerful elves and that won them the favour of the Dragon King himself. 

Aaravos watched his mother and felt anything but love and respect. He would never consider her wise, but she was definitely powerful. There were scars on his body that could testify to the strength that flowed in his mother’s veins. 

Aadriaa tapped her long fingernails against the wooden table and frowned. “It would seem we are divided in our vote. Three for exile. Three for withdrawal.” Her golden eyes fixated on Aaravos. There was disgust in her expression as she spoke his name. “Aaravos, the deciding vote goes to you, the heir of the startouch.”

His breath left him and he clutched the wooden armrests tightly, as the stares of the six most powerful elves turned to him. This had to be a dream. Yes, that was it. He was still asleep in his bed and he was having a nightmare. If he pinched himself, he would surely wake up and have a good laugh about how ridiculous it was to place the fate of not only his people, but that of the humans, on his ill-equipped shoulders. 

His fingers trembled as he slowly moved one hand to the other. He pinched his skin and let out a sharp breath as the pain raced up his arm. Aaravos’ eyes widened. This was really happening.

“What are you doing, boy?” Gaaelin demanded, startling him.

Aaravos blinked, not sure what to do. If he disagreed with his mother, he would be severely punished, but…

His mind shifted to the human in the mirror and the way he looked up at Aaravos in surprised awe. There was nothing threatening about him. Nothing verminous. Surely, the humans would listen to reason?

“I,” he started quietly. He took a deep breath. “I, Aaravos, heir of the startouch, vote to withdraw our armies so we may try to delegate with the humans.”

Gaaelin clicked his tongue with disapproval and muttered, “Of course.”

Aadriaa set both of her hands against the table and said, “There you have it. Each of us will order our troops to return home. Jhahanna, Lusai and Maielen will approach the false border and meet with the humans’ appointed leaders on our behalf. Council adjourn.”

The elves hesitated, taken aback by the abrupt ending to their meeting, but stood and started to leave the room.

Aaravos stood, as well, and tried to make his way out before his mother noticed, but her shrill voice reached his ears before he managed to take a second step.

“Not you, Aaravos. We must speak in private.”

He cringed, watching in horror as the elven generals left the room, quietly closing the doors behind them.


	3. Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaravos' caretaker, Alaanen, tends to the wounds that Aadriaa inflected upon her son and Aaravos finds himself wishing that his life was different, tired of suffering through this abuse.

Aaravos flinched as Alaanen placed a cold cloth against the gash across his back. He drew his legs against his chest and wrapped his arms around his calves with a deep breath. The water did little to soothe the pain, but he appreciated the efforts of the skywing elf regardless.

Alaanen had tended to him many times over the handful of years that she had been his caretaker, but she had never asked him how he managed to injure himself so severely within the confines of the Moonhenge. There was no real reason to ask. 

It was no secret that Aadriaa was the cause of Aaravos’ wounds, but none of the caretakers dared speak of the abuse in case they incurred her wrath as well. Instead, they merely looked at Aaravos in pity as he passed by them in the halls on his way to and from the study, where he had his daily lessons. After a particularly brutal punishment, some of them would offer words of encouragement, like: you look well today, my lord or enjoy your studies today, Lord Aaravos.

The cloth moved off his back and Aaravos glanced over his shoulder. He watched as the skywing elf dipped the fabric into the bucket of water next to the bath, twirling it so the blood would come off. She pulled the cloth out and squeezed it in her hand to get rid of the excess water.

“Alaanen?” Aaravos said, making her hesitate. His eyes moved to her left shoulder, where the appendage ended abruptly. Though she had been born with the defective limb, she never seemed to let it hold her back from her daily chores. He admired that tenacity in her.

When Aaravos failed to say anything further, Alaanen asked, “Yes, my lord?” She knelt next to the bath that he was sitting in, careful not to let her eyes wander.

Aaravos looked down at the murky water that reached up just past his mid-calves. He let out a sigh and replied, “Do you ever wish you were born to a different life?”

She turned her head to the side, frowning. It was obvious that the question confused her, which was understandable. It had been an odd thing to ask. Especially coming from the heir of the startouch elves.

“A different life, my lord? What do you mean?”

Aaravos considered dropping the subject. Even if Alaanen answered, she would never tell him the truth if she was disappointed in how her life turned out. Expressing discontentment as his caretaker could get her fired… or worse, if Aadriaa learned of her treacherous words. But he wanted to know if what he was feeling about his current state was strange. 

“You know. Do you ever wish your life turned out differently?” he explained, unconsciously looking at her missing arm.

Alaanen laughed, then covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide with horror. Her response could have been considered disrespectful, but Aaravos was more intrigued by her amused laugh than offended by it.

“I apologize for my outburst, my lord,” she mumbled.

Aaravos shook his head and smiled up at her, reassuringly. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Alaanen. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you for springing such a bizarre question on you out of the blue. It’s just that you always seem so cheerful despite…”

“My arm?” she finished for him. The skywing thought for a moment then dipped the cloth back into the bucket of water. She rung out the excess again then placed it over Aaravos’ bare back. 

“While I might not be able to fly like the other skywings, I would trade this life for nothing,” she answered. “I have the great honour of being your caretaker, my lord. It has been a privilege to serve you.”

The startouch elf remained silent. Though she sounded genuine, Aaravos wondered if she had simply been telling him what she thought he wished to hear. He felt truly alone at that moment. There was no one that he could talk to. No one that he could entrust with his true thoughts and feelings. 

“Fetch me some clean clothes, Alaanen. I wish to begin my studies,” he ordered, pulling himself out of the bath. 

The skywing elf fell forward from the sudden movement and the cloth plummeted into the bathtub. With effort, she managed to steady herself, slamming her palm against the smooth stone of the tub. 

Aaravos reached for the towel hanging on the metal stand next to the bath and wrapped it around his waist.

Alaanen grunted as she pushed herself back up then climbed to her feet. “Right away, my lord,” she replied, bowing. She hurried out of the room without another word.

Once the door clicked closed, Aaravos walked over to the vanity across the room. He sat on the wooden bench and stared at his reflection in the silver framed mirror. His fingers brushed against the bruises forming around his neck then moved up to the scratches on his cheek, where his mother’s fingernails had struck him for embarrassing her in front of the rest of the council.

His eyes flicked to his mirrored self’s gaze and he wondered what it was that the man in his dreams saw when he looked at Aaravos through the mirror. Because all Aaravos saw was a pathetic elf that desperately sought the approval of his mother. 

Enraged at himself, Aaravos picked up the metal box that held all of the supplies Alaanen used to comb his hair, and rammed it against the mirror. The glass shattered under the impact and shards of glass fell onto the vanity’s surface. Aaravos looked down at the broken pieces, horrified to see himself reflected in every shard. 

He pushed himself off the bench and flinched when a piece of the mirror penetrated his foot.

“Lord Aaravos!” Alaanen cried, rushing forward. She set the clothes down on the bench then immediately went to work picking the glass up from off the floor. “Please, sit down,” she ordered. “Let me clean this for you before you harm yourself again.”

Aaravos gently grabbed her arm, stopping her. She looked up at him, alarmed then let out an audible gasp when he carefully knelt down next to her and started gather the shards, as well.

“My lord, please. You could cut your hands,” Alaanen said.

“And so could you,” he replied, sternly. His eyes narrowed in determination. He refused to be the pathetic version of himself that he saw every time he looked in the mirror. Aaravos wanted to be the elf that left the human in his dreams standing in awe.

Once they had gathered the broken pieces of the mirror and placed them safely on the vanity’s desk, Alaanen pulled the shard out of Aaravos’ foot. She fetched bandages out from the dresser near the bathroom door and began to wrap his foot. Once she was done with that, she gently spread an ointment over the gash on Aaravos’ back then bandaged that, too. There was an immediate sense of relief as the healing cream seeped into his skin.

“All set, my lord. I will leave you so you may change. Do you wish me to accompany you to your study?”

“No, thank you, Alaanen. I can manage on my own,” Aaravos said.

The skywing nodded then walked to the door. She left once more and Aaravos dressed himself, body aching from the movement. He paused as he placed the golden collar around his neck, eyes moving back to the broken mirror.

He had an idea.


	4. Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate to learn more about the human in his dream, Aaravos decides to risk taking a sleeping potion to put himself into a longer, deeper sleep.

Alaanen gathered up the discarded dishes on Aaravos’ desk and glanced over at him. 

He was pretending to read one of the books that his teachers had given him, secretly wishing that the skywing elf would hurry up and leave already. The day had dragged on for much longer than normal and now that night had finally befallen, all Aaravos wanted to do was crawl into his bed and see if his idea would work.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, my lord?” Alaanen asked.

Aaravos glanced at her, trying to keep his annoyance from his expression. He forced a smile and replied, “Yes, thank you.” He closed his book and set it down on the dresser next to his bed. Hoping to speed her exit along, he added, “I am rather tired, Alaanen. Would you be so kind as to draw the curtains closed and leave me so I might be able to rest?”

The skywing bowed. “Of course, my lord.” She set the dishes back down on the desk then walked over to the window. The light of the moon illuminated her pale skin as she hesitated to draw the curtains closed.

“It looks like a storm is coming,” she said, finally pulling the fabric across the window. “I hope the troops will be able to find shelter for the evening.”

“Troops?” Aaravos asked, genuinely curious. 

Alaanen nodded. “Lady Jhahanna left today with her advanced guard. She was charged with approaching the humans for peace talks.”

Aaravos felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had feared that his mother would veto his vote and order the elves to attack the humans, after all. It was also comforting to hear that Jhahanna was the one leading the peace talks. If anyone could convince the humans to stand down, it would be her.

Alaanen picked up the stack of dishes again and walked to the door. “Good night, Lord Aaravos. Sleep well,” she said and pushed open the door with her shoulder. Using her foot, she closed the door behind her.

Aaravos waited until the sounds of her footsteps faded then climbed out of bed. Feeling a rush of excitement, he pulled open the lid of the trunk at the foot of his bed. His fingers clutched onto the book he had stolen from the study and he brought it to his chest. 

“Please, let this work,” he pleaded. 

Walking to his desk, Aaravos set the book down and flipped the pages until he found the one he wanted. Bringing the candle closer to the book, he started reading the instructions on how to create the sleeping aid. The process of creating the mixture seemed straightforward enough. A combination of herbs that would put him into a deep sleep for the entirety of the evening. With any luck, Aaravos would be able to dream past the point where he always woke.

He needed to unravel the mystery behind his dream and the man who haunted him there. 

Aaravos finished reading the instructions and picked up the satchel he had hidden under his desk when he returned from the study. He pulled it open and carefully removed the herbs that he had managed to steal from the kitchens when he went to pick up his dinner. Everything he needed lay before him, but his nerves were starting to wane.

His eyes read the last line on the page.

_Be certain to have someone there to rouse you from your sleep, as the affects of this concoction vary from elf to elf. If the dose is too potent, it is possible that you may need assistance to wake._

Aaravos took a deep breath then started to gather the herbs, careful to match the amounts described in the books as closely as possible to avoid any unfortunate accidents. He tossed the contents into a bowl then pulled a mortar out of his satchel. With care, he crushed the herbs until there was nothing left inside the bowl but a slimy green liquid.

It smelt pleasant enough, at least.

Aaravos went back to his bed and sat down. This was his last chance to change his mind. He could set the bowl down and hope that these reoccurring dreams eventually stopped, but he needed to learn more about the human he kept seeing. Perhaps he was the key to ending the war between elves and humans?

Without another thought, Aaravos brought the bowl to his lips and drank. He blanched at the flavour and coughed, a burning sensation traveling down his throat. The concoction caused his hands to start trembling and it suddenly felt like his body was on fire. 

Aaravos gasped, losing his grip on the bowl and it rolled off his bed, bouncing against the floor. He recalled watching it wobble then finally come to a stop, but the next thing he knew, his bedroom had vanished. Instead, he stood in the strange room that plagued his dreams. 

The chill in the air immediately made Aaravos want to reach up and adjust the cloak around his shoulders to warm himself, but he resisted the urge. He was determined to break the cycle of his dream. Instead of crossing the room to light the large fireplace, the elf walked directly to the mirror. 

There was nothing but darkness in the reflection. Aaravos placed his fingers on the warm surface, breath catching in his throat. It was naive of him to let his hopes up as he was, but something felt different. The energy that the mirror was giving off was hotter— more electric to the touch. It caused the tips of his fingers to tingle. 

“Come on,” he whispered, eyes searching the black surface of the mirror for some sign that the human was about to appear before him. His stomach was burning with a curiosity that only the man in his dream could satisfy. If only the mortal would speak to him.

A familiar, but no less blinding light assaulted his eye and Aaravos raised his hand to his face, blinking away the residual spots of white. Once his vision cleared, he let his hand fall to his side, and reminded himself that he was not to reach out in an attempt to touch the human. 

“Break the repetition of the dream,” he murmured to himself. 

The human stared up at him with the same awe as before and his hand reached up to touch the mirror, as it always did. His five fingers trembled, either from excitement or fear.  
Aaravos was disappointed. He thought that if he had altered their interaction in the dream, they might have been able to speak to one another, but the human was just acting out the same old pattern. With a growl, he turned his back on the human. He had risked stealing the book and herbs—being punished by his mother— for nothing.

A soft bang reverberated through the room, making Aaravos stop. His heart skipped and, exhaling deeply, he looked over his shoulder.

The human had a fist against the mirror’s surface. His face was twisted with grief— pleading. Aaravos needed no words to understand him. Unable to contain the joy he felt, the elf hurried back to the mirror, a large grin on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asked. “What is your name, human? Where are you? How are we able to see each other in our dreams?”

His smile fell when the human reached up and flicked his rounded ear with a finger. He simply shook his head and gave Aaravos a helpless shrug. The human’s lips moved, but the room remained deathly quiet. Their voices were blocked by the glass of the mirror. 

Aaravos frowned and folded his arms across his chest. He raised a hand, resting his chin between his thumb and finger, losing himself to the rush of thoughts that passed through his mind. They were unable to speak to one another. That presented a challenge. But Aaravos had managed to solve the first obstacle of waking too soon and he was determined to figure out a way for them to talk so he could get some answers.

There must have been some clue hidden in this dream world. He tapped his finger against his chin, letting his eyes scan the room. They paused when they reached the row of books against the wall near the fireplace. 

Aaravos’ gaze went back to the human and he had to suppress a chuckle. He had both palms pressed against the mirror, a layer of sweat caused a faint fog around his hands. The human’s eyes were taking in every inch of Aaravos, absorbing every detail of his body, as though he was being visually dissected.

Self-conscious under the human’s intense stare, Aaravos took a step back, pointing to the books behind him to let his observer know that he was merely going to look at the texts, and not vanish on him. The human merely watched as the elf examined the books, reading the titles along the spines. Some of them Aaravos recognized. They were books that his teachers had made him read while he studied how to harness the primal magic of five of the six elements. 

There were never any books written about the power of the stars. When he had asked his mother about this, she had explained star magic was passed down by word of mouth because of the incredible strength it gave those who could command it. Aaravos had yet to learn how to wield the power of the stars, his mother claiming he was not ready for such responsibility.

Searching through his memory, he doubted any of the books would help him and tried to find a title that stood out to him. Then, he saw it. A small book with a simple design. Plain text along the spine. It would have been easy to glaze over the book, but something about it called out to Aaravos— begged him to pick it up off the shelf and read it. 

The elf reached for it, but stopped when a bang on the mirror demanded his attention. The human was grinning, pointing to fog on the glass. 

Curious, Aaravos took one last glance at the book, then walked back to the mirror. There were letters written in the fog.

“V-I-R-E-N,” Aaravos read aloud to himself. “Viren?” His eyes met the human’s and he cocked his head to the side. The man pointed to himself then to the letters in the fog.

Aaravos’ eyes lit up with excitement. “Your name is Viren?” he asked, despite knowing the human was unable to hear him.

Viren wiped the fog off the glass with the fabric of his sleeve then looked at the elf, expectantly. It was clear that he wanted Aaravos to write his own name. 

Aaravos leaned forward and deliberately let out a deep breath, blowing as much air as he could across the surface of the mirror. He looked up, noticing Viren’s expression turn into one of discomfort, as though the sight of Aaravos releasing his hot breath had disturbed him.

Tearing his eyes away from the human, he frowned with uncertainty. Viren might be no different than the humans from his mother’s tales. Disgusted by elves and all that they did. 

Aaravos furrowed his brows, chastising himself for falling prey to his mother’s biases. Viren had otherwise done nothing to suggest he hated elves. In fact, the initiative he had taken to communicate with Aaravos almost proved he wanted to befriend the elf. Or at least learn more about him.

Aaravos dragged his finger over the fog on the mirror.

A-A-R-A-V-O-S.

He smiled, looking up at the human. His lips moved, silently speaking his name.

“Aaravos.”

The elf started, alarmed. Had the human just spoken his name?

“Lord Aaravos!” 

No, the voice was one that he knew. One that he heard everyday.

His eyes opened and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Aaravos groaned and sat up, putting a hand on his head. Everything felt heavy, as though his limbs were still asleep.

“Thank the dragon king!” Alaanen gasped. “I’ve been trying to wake you for hours.”

Aaravos looked down at her, noticing tears rolling down her cheeks, and immediately felt guilty to have put her through such duress.

“My apologizes, Alaanen,” he mumbled. 

She picked up the overturned bowl and shook her head, still upset. “What did you do?” she asked, showing him the dried up remainder of the concoction he had drank. “What is this stuff?”

Aaravos hesitated.

“Alaanen? Can you keep a secret?”


	5. Side-Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jhahanna returns from her meeting with the humans, but the elven council are still at odds with one another about what to do about the humans. Aaravos finds himself put in a difficult position once again and is faced with two difficult decisions to make.

Aaravos sighed. He rest his head against his knuckles, staring outside the window, and longed for the day to be over. 

This past week had been terrible. After his success in extending his dream and learning the human’s name, Aaravos had been excited to go back into the realm of sleep. Unfortunately, when he had rested his head against the pillow, it took him ages to fall into a slumber, and when he did, it was dreamless. Every night had been that way since he had taken that tonic, and his body was growing exhausted from the lack of sleep. 

The sun was starting to set now and Aaravos watched as the creatures of the forest started to make their way home for the evening. Maybe a night under the stars was what Aaravos needed to get a good night’s rest?

There was a soft knock on the door and after a brief moment, Alaanen stepped inside. She gave him a customary bow and said, “Forgive the interruption, Lord Aaravos, but your mother is asking for you.”

One of his eyebrow’s arched in bafflement, and he replied, “For what?”

His mother rarely sent for him this late into the day. Momentary panic raced through his mind and he desperately searched his memory for something he may have done to upset her, but he had been studying all day. Unless…

He narrowed his eyes at Alaanen. “Did you tell her about my dreams?”

The skywing’s eyes widened in horror. “Of course not, my lord.” She shut the door behind her, giving them privacy. “I would never break my promise to you, Lord Aaravos.” There was disappointment in her voice from the accusation. 

Aaravos sighed again and put a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Alaanen. I’m just… so tired.”

“About that,” she started and walked over to the desk he was sitting at. She glanced down at the book under his arms and frowned. 

He felt his face turn red when he realized the text was upside-down, but was even more embarrassed when his eyes took in all the words he had scribbled onto the page. Well, one word, multiple times. _Viren_. Aaravos had been doodling the human’s name all over the book he was supposed to be studying without even realizing it.

Alaanen said nothing of him defacing the ancient text that had been passed down over centuries, and continued her initial thought, “I asked the apothecary about the tonic you drank—don’t worry, I didn’t mention you were the one who used it— and there are side-effects that weren’t listed in the book.”

Aaravos’ heart skipped.

“Side-effects like insomnia or difficulty sleeping. The inability to reach a deep enough sleep to dream,” she explained softly. Her eyes went down to the book again. “You might never be able to enter the dream world again.”

A laugh forced its way past Aaravos’ lips. He looked at Alaanen as though she had just told him a hilarious joke that he knew he should have understood, but the punchline went over his head. Surely, this was a prank. Alaanen was teasing him as a punishment for snapping at her. But the skywing would never treat the heir of the startouch in such a familiar manner. No, she was telling him the truth.

“Then…” Aaravos began, eyes searching the skywing’s face. “Then I will just have to make the sleeping tonic every night.”

“You can’t, my lord!” she replied in trepidation. “The more you use it, the longer the effects will last.” Her eyes locked with his, an unusual gesture for one below his station. “Do you understand, my lord? If you abuse the sleeping tonic, eventually you won’t wake up. Ever.”

Aaravos’ lips trembled and he looked down at the page with Viren’s name scribbled all over it. This was wrong. There was a reason that Viren had appeared before him in his dreams. A meaning that Aaravos had not yet figured out, but he knew it held great importance. He refused to accept that he would never dream of Viren again. That he would never be able to solve the mystery of the mirror and the room that felt oddly like a tomb.

Alaneen give him a sympathetic smile and said, “We will figure it out, my lord, but for now, we must go see your mother. Jhahanna has returned with news from the peace talks.”

Aaravos straightened in his seat, interest piqued. The fact that Jhahanna had returned at all was a positive sign. If the humans were truly as unreasonable as his mother had made them out to be, they would have killed the leader of the skywing elves the moment they met for the talks.

He pushed back his chair and ran for the door, not bothering to wait for Alaneen. The sunfire elf that was standing outside his room gave him an alarmed yelp as he rushed by. Aaravos could hear her heavy footsteps as she chased after him, no doubt assuming he was running because he was trying to escape the confines of Moonhenge. 

The halls were normally crowded this time of evening, but seemed to be busier than usual, as people gossiped about Jhahanna’s return and whispers of war filled the corridor.  
Aaravos shoved his way past people, not caring if it was unbecoming of someone of his stature. No one would dare to call him out, anyways.

He skid to a halt just outside the dining room, which acted as the war council chamber when the need arose. Taking a deep breath, Aaravos straightened his robes and fixed his hair so it would appear as though he had calmly walked there like a proper heir. Then he pushed the doors open.

To his surprise, no one was sitting down at the table. The leaders were gathered around Jhahanna near the head of the table where Aadriaa usually sat. They had grim expressions on their faces.

Aadriaa noticed her son and beckoned him forward without a word. Aaravos walked over to the group and Maielen stepped aside with a nod, making room for him. 

“So that’s it then?” Gaaelin growled. “We are just going to trust the humans to keep their word?”

Aaravos shot the oceantide leader a glance, hoping the dislike he felt for him was not evident in his expression. The man never had anything positive to contribute.

Jhahanna shook her head. “Trust between our kind will take years, maybe even decades, to build. That is why we must give them Katolis as an act of good faith. If we hand over—”

“—Out of the question,” Aadriaa interrupted. “These lands belong to the Dragon King. They are not for us to give away. The humans can gather in this Katolis of theirs, but it will never be _human_ lands.”

The skywing leader folded her arms across her chest, frowning. “Perhaps we should involve the Dragon King in this conversation? As you pointed out, these lands are not ours to give away, nor are they ours to keep. It is for the Dragon King to decide what to do with his own land.”

Silence befell the room and Aaravos held his breath, afraid to even move in case his mother’s wrath turned to him. 

Aadriaa laughed. It was a terrible sound. Cruel. Condescending. Devoid of all amusement. Aaravos had long since learned to hate the noise. It sent a shiver of fear down his spine and activated the flight response within him.

“The Dragon King has more important things to worry about than the squabble between elves and humans. If you wish to bother him with such nonsense, then by my guest, but I intend to settle this quarrel without running for aid like a coward,” Aadriaa snapped.

Then, she turned and stormed out of the room. The act left the other leaders speechless. While the startouch were considered the strongest of the elven races, they were not above the others, but Aadriaa was acting as though she were their queen. With her gone, the council was unable to continue discussing what to do about the humans and their conditions for peace.

“This is an outrage,” Gaaelin muttered and, for once, Aaravos agreed with the oceantide. “Aadriaa thinks herself the voice of the Dragon King? She speaks for herself, not our king.” His blue eyes shifted to Aaravos. His lip curled with disgust and his nostrils flared. “As much as I hate to say this, perhaps it is time for Aadriaa to step down as leader of the startouch?”

Lusai shook her head. “You know that isn’t how it works, Gaaelin.” Her purple moonshadow eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “The Dragon King appointed her bloodline leaders of the startouch centuries ago. She cannot simply step down while there is no heir ready to take her place.”

Aaravos shifted uncomfortably. This conversation was turning in a direction that he had never expected— one that he wanted no part in. The eyes of the elven representatives all turned to him, gauging his reaction to the very idea of overthrowing his own mother.

Gaaelin rolled his eyes then roughly shoved past Aaravos with his shoulder. “Guess we are stuck with Aadriaa for another few centuries,” he said on his way to the door. “With any luck, her temper tantrum will be over soon and we can figure out what to do about the human infestation.”

One by the one, the elven generals left the room until only Aaravos and Jhahanna remained. 

“Aaravos,” she said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Are you well? You look tired.”

He nodded, surprised by her concern. 

“Listen, I know she is your mother, but Gaaelin _is_ right. We can’t keep going on this way. Aadriaa gets more and more power hungry. You must challenge her and take your rightful place as the Dragon King’s startouch representative.”

“Wh-what?” he sputtered, unable to stop the laugh that burst from his mouth. When Jhahanna failed to join him in his laughter, his smile fell. “You are being serious?” he asked, alarmed. “I… I can’t. I’m nowhere near done my studies. I have yet to learn how to master even one of the primal magics, let alone all six. If I challenged my mother, she would kill me with little effort. And even speaking of challenging her is enough to encourage my death.”

He grit his teeth, feeling enraged that Jhahanna had put him in such a situation.

“My apologizes,” Jhahanna murmured. “I was only thinking about what is best for Xadia.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “I think you will make a wonderful leader, Aaravos. You have a good heart. You think about peace— not just for the elves, but for the humans, too. That is the kind of leader we need right now.”

Her hand slid off his shoulder and she let out a soft breath. “At least… think about it?” She walked away, leaving Aaravos alone in the war council room.

His heart was thundering in his chest. Think about it? There was nothing to think about. The very idea of him becoming the startouch leader was ludicrous. He laughed weakly, looking down at the map rolled out on the table and all the figures spread out along it. The bronze figures that represented the humans were grouped together over Katolis. They captured his attention. What would happen to the human race if Aadriaa had her way?

Aaravos had no idea what to do. He needed advice, but not from an elf.


	6. Questions Without Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaravos seeks council from the only human he "knows": Viren. Still unable to communicate with one another, Aaravos does his best to get answers to his questions, but his entire perspective on humanity shifts when he finds a humble journal amongst the books in the dream world's library. Will his startling new discovery destroy his friendship with Viren before it even has a chance to start?

“I am utterly against this, Lord Aaravos,” Alaanen pouted, as she handed him the bowl to mix the herbs he had ordered her to steal for him. All evening, the skywing elf had been trying to convince him not to use the sleeping tonic to visit the human in the mirror. 

“You only used it once. Maybe the side-effects will wear off after awhile? Why don’t you wait a few weeks to see if you can fall asleep on your own again?” she pressed.

Aaravos grabbed the bowl and let out a frustrated groan. “Please, Alaanen. Enough. If I wait, things will only escalate to the point of no return. I have to figure out how to talk to him. I _know_ he’s the key to ending this war.”

She fell silent, watching him with evident distress, and made no further effort to change his mind.

What he was doing was rash, Aaravos knew that. But he was never really one for thinking about the consequences of his actions until after he had done whatever he had set his mind to. That was just one of the many reasons that Jhahanna was wrong about him. 

His mother may have been difficult and unyielding, but she knew what she was doing, unlike him. Her arrogance had grown over the decades that she been leading, but with good reason. Until recently, all of her decisions had been undisputed by the other elven representatives and her choices had led to prosperity for the elves. Of course she was going to lash out now that the others were starting to question her— doubt in her judgement. 

Aaravos had yet to prove himself to the other representatives. He doubted he could convince any of them to believe in him as they had so faithfully followed Aadriaa. Especially Gaaelin. Even if he could win over the other council members, the oceantide elf would probably contradict every decision just to spite him.

No, Aaravos was not ready to lead. But he was not prepared to let the humans be slaughtered, either.

“Okay,” he exhaled, looking at the thick liquid of the crushed herbs in the bowl. His eyes drifted to Alaanen. “Remember, make sure you wake me no sooner than an hour after sunrise. I will need as much time as possible to figure out a way to talk to him.”

Alaneen nodded. “Please… be careful.”

He nodded and drank the tonic. The effects were almost immediate this time. He had barely begun to taste the liquid when he was thrown into the world of his dreams, but everything felt different.

Instead of the cold, dark room that he was used to, sun shone through the large window, illuminating the area. Though Aaravos usually found the heat of the sun comforting, it was the opposite in his sleeping state. The warmth was stifling and made the room seem even more like a prison in someway.

There was a soft rapping from across the room and Aaravos was delighted to see Viren already at the mirror. He walked over and smiled down at the human, who offered him a small wave in response. 

This time, Aaravos was the one that examined every inch of Viren’s body. Much to Aaravos’ disappointment, the majority of the human was hidden by the robes he wore. His curiosity burned. He wanted to know what humans looked like without their garments. Did they have markings like the elves?

Aaravos tilted his head to the left. There were no visible marks that he could see on the little bits of exposed flesh. Not even a freckle on his pale skin.

The facial hair along Viren’s jaw intrigued him. It looked coarse and he wondered if it was rough to the touch or still felt smooth like hair that grew on scalps. He longed to reach out and touch him. 

The human’s hands appeared before him in the mirror, blocking his view from anything else. Viren waved it, trying to get his attention. He had that uncomfortable look on his face again, as though Aaravos’ stare had unnerved him.

As an apology, Aaravos offered him a large grin, which only seemed to upset the human even more. Perhaps smiling meant something different to humans? 

He shook his head. He was wasting time. 

Breathing onto the mirror again, Aaravos wrote, _H-E-L-P_. He noticed Viren’s expression turn into one of concern and his eyes focused on the room behind Aaravos, as though he were expecting an immediate danger to be behind him. 

The elf folded his arms across his chest, pondering the best way to ask Viren’s advice about the war. It would take him too long to write all his questions on the mirror, but that was the only way they could communicate at the moment. Unless…

Aaravos walked over to the desk across the room from the mirror and searched for parchment and a quill, but there was nothing useful. Frustrated, he let out a growl and eyed the books to his left. There had been that one book that he had been drawn to last time he was in this dream. Aaravos walked over to it now.

He pulled it off the shelf, looking at the plain black cover. It was flimsy, and almost looked like a journal rather than a book. Curious, he opened to the first page and his eyes narrowed instantly. There were two things that bothered him about the book. First, the title: _Human Magic_. And, second: the text seemed to be written in his own handwriting. 

Before Aaravos could read any further, the ink seemed to evaporate off the pages, leaving the book empty, and his heart pounding in his chest.

He looked over at Viren, who was watching him closely from his stance on the other side of the mirror. As far as Aaravos knew, humans have never been able to use magic because of the lack of connection to the primal sources. If humans could manage to wield power like magic, the elves would lose their strongest advantage over humanity. They might even lose the war if humans became mages.

Aaravos closed the book and set it down on the shelf with a frown. The urgency to speak to Viren only increased. He needed to know if the humans would surrender to the elves if they gave them Katolis or if their greed would ignite further wars. If he could convince Aadriaa that handing over Katolis would bring about peace, Aaravos had to try.

Resigning to the fact that there was no other way to communicate with Viren, Aaravos went back to the mirror. He took in an extra deep breath so he could exhale for longer. Then he quickly wrote in the fog.

_“If we give humans Katolis, will that be enough?”_

Viren’s mouth turned down into a frown and his brows furrowed in genuine confusion. He looked up at Aaravos, bewildered, and shook his head.

Aaravos’ heart sank. The humans would make more demands. War would continue.

Viren hesitated, but breathed against the mirror. In response, he wrote, _“Humans already own Katolis.”_

Aaravos scowled. So that was what the humans believed? They had clearly misunderstood the generosity of the Dragon King, when he allowed humans to make a base there. Even if the elves recognized Katolis as human lands, the war would continue. The humans were clearly unsatisfied with one kingdom and aimed to take more from the elves.

Perhaps Aadriaa and Gaaelin were correct in their opinions to eradicate the humans from Xadian lands? 

Viren rapped his knuckle against the mirror, drawing Aaravos’ attention. He created a new layer of fog and wrote a question.

_“What do you need help with?”_

Aaravos hesitated, no longer sure if he could trust the human before him. Examining his mortal face, Aaravos could see a hint of apprehension mixed in with the general curiosity that always seemed to be present in Viren’s expression. He wanted to trust him, but this could have been a ploy of some sort that the humans had orchestrated to trick Aaravos into leading the elves astray. Especially if it was possible the humans had managed to figure out how to use magic. 

The question Viren had written in the mirror began to fade. Condensation from their breaths slid down the surface and Aaravos watched the water as it gathered towards the bottom of the large mirror. It was difficult to tell which side of the mirror the condensation was on, his or the human’s.

Finally, Aaravos gathered his breath and replied with a question of his own.

_“Can I trust you?”_

This time, the human gave pause. His grey eyes considered Aaravos then he wrote his answer.

_“Depends.”_

The elf frowned at that answer, but noticed Viren draw a line under the you that lingered from Aaravos’ question. Then the human pointed at the words.

_“Can I trust you?”_

Aaravos looked him directly in the eyes, but offered no response. He had come here seeking answers, but this visit with the human only left him more confused.

He could feel himself being pulled out of his sleep. There was no point in resisting. Aaravos needed some time to think— to consider the possibility that humans could learn magic. Once he was certain that Viren was not trying to trick him, only then would Aaravos put his trust in him. 

Aaravos gasped, eyes fluttering open. He sat up and looked around, relieved to find himself in his own bedroom.

“Good morning, my lord,” Alaanen sighed, relieved.

Ignoring her greeting, Aaravos pushed himself off his bed and ordered, “Prepare my bath, Alaanen. We have a lot of research to do today.”


End file.
